The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
chariot, which travelled swift as thought, accompanied by his beloved,
and he aroused curiosity in his subjects. Then king Harivara remained
in heavenly enjoyments in that city, which was named after him, in
the society of that Anangaprabhá. And Anangaprabhá remained there
devotedly attached to him, forgetting all her supernatural power,
bewildered by the curse.
In the meanwhile Jívadatta woke up on the mountain, and saw that not
only Anangaprabhá was gone, but his sword also. He thought "Where is
that Anangaprabhá? Alas! Where is that sword? Has she gone off with
it? Or were they both carried off by some being?" In his perplexity,
he made many surmises of this sort, and he searched that mountain
for three days, being consumed with the fire of love. Then he came
down, and wandered through the forests for ten days, but did not
find a trace of her anywhere. He kept crying out--"Alas spiteful
fortune, how did you carry off, together with the magic power of
the sword, my beloved Anangaprabhá, both which you granted with
difficulty?" Thus employed he wandered about without food, and at
last reached a village, and there he entered the opulent mansion of
a Bráhman. There the handsome and well-dressed mistress of the house,
Priyadattá by name, made him sit down on a seat, and immediately gave
this order to her maids--"Wash quickly the feet of this Jívadatta, for
to-day is the thirteenth day that he has gone without food on account
of his separation." When Jívadatta heard that, he was astonished,
and reflected in his own mind--"Can Anangaprabhá have come here, or is
this woman a witch?" Thus he reflected, and after his feet were washed,
and he had eaten the food that she gave, he humbly asked Priyadattá
in his great grief--"Tell me one thing: how do you know my history,
blameless one? And tell me another thing, where are my sword and
my beloved gone?" When the devoted wife Priyadattá heard that, she
said--"No one but my husband has any place in my heart even in a dream,
my son, and I look on all other men as brothers, and no guest leaves
my house without entertainment; by virtue of that I know the past,
the present and the future. And that Anangaprabhá of yours has been
carried off by a king named Harivara, living in a town named after him,
who, as destiny would have it, came that way, while you were asleep,
attracted by her song. And you cannot recover her, for that king is
very powerful; moreover that unchaste woman will in turn leave him
and go to another man. And the goddess Durgá gave you that sword only
that you might obtain that lady; having accomplished that, the weapon,
in virtue of its divine nature, has returned to the goddess, as the
lady has been carried off. Moreover, how have you forgotten what the
goddess was pleased to tell you, when she told the story of the curse
of Anangaprabhá? So why are you so distracted about an event, which was
destined to take place? Abandon this chain of sins, which again and
again produces extreme sorrow. And of what profit can be to you now,
my brother, that wicked female, who is attached to another, and who
has become a mortal, having lost her science by her treachery against
you?" When that virtuous woman said this to Jívadatta, he abandoned
all passion for Anangaprabhá, being disgusted with her fickleness, and
thus answered the Bráhman lady--"Mother, my delusion has been brought
to an end by this true speech of thine; whom does not association with
persons of virtuous conduct benefit? This misfortune has befallen
me in consequence of my former crimes, so I will abandon jealousy,
and go to holy places to wash them out. What can I gain by taking up
an enmity with others on account of Anangaprabhá? For one, who has
conquered anger, conquers this whole world." While he was saying this,
the righteous husband of Priyadattá, who was hospitable to guests,
returned to the house. The husband also welcomed him, and made him
forget his grief, and then he rested, and taking leave of them both,
started on his pilgrimage to holy places.
Then, in course of time, he roamed round to all the holy bathing-places
on the earth, enduring many toils in difficult ways, living on roots
and fruits. And after visiting holy bathing-places, he went to the
shrine of the dweller in the Vindhya hills; there he went through
a severe penance, without food, on a bed of kusa grass. And Ambiká,
satisfied with his asceticism, said to him, appearing to him in bodily
form--"Rise up, my son, for you four are four ganas of mine. Three
are Panchamúla, Chaturvaktra, and Mahodaramukha, and thou art the
fourth, last in order, and thy name is Vikatavadana. You four once
went to the sand of the Ganges to amuse yourselves, and saw there a
hermit's daughter bathing. She was called Chápalekhá, the daughter
of Kapilajata. And she was solicited by all of you, distracted
with love. When she said 'I am a maiden, go away all of you,' the
three others remained quiet, but thou didst forcibly seize her by
the arm. And she cried out--'Father, Father, deliver me.' Then the
hermit, who was near, came up in wrath. Then thou didst let go her
arm; then he immediately cursed you, saying--'Wicked ones, be born,
all of you, as human beings.' Then you asked the hermit that the
curse might end, and he said--'When the princess Anangarati shall be
demanded in marriage by you, and shall go to the Vidyádhara world,
then three of you shall be released from your curse. But when she
has become a Vidyádharí, then thou, Vikatavadana, shalt gain her,
and lose her again, and then thou shalt suffer great sorrow. But
after propitiating the goddess Durgá for a long time, thou shalt be
released from this curse. This will happen to thee, because thou didst
touch the hand of this Chápalekhá, and also because thou hast much
guilt attaching to thee, on account of having carried off the wives
of others.' You four ganas of mine, whom that hermit thus cursed,
became four heroes in the Dekhan, Panchaphuttika, and Bháshájna, and
Khadgadhara, these three friends, and you the fourth Jívadatta. Now the
first three, when Anangarati returned to her own place, came here, and
by my favour were freed from their curse. And thou hast propitiated me
now, therefore thy curse is at an end. So take this fiery meditation,
and abandon this body; and consume at once the guilt, which it would
take eight births to exhaust." When the goddess Durgá had said this,
she gave him the meditation, and disappeared. And with that meditation
he burned up his wicked mortal body, and at last was freed from the
curse, and became once more an excellent gana. When even gods have
to endure so much suffering by associating with the wives of others,
what must be the result of it to inferior beings?
In the meanwhile Anangaprabhá became head-queen in Harivara, the city
of the king Harivara. And the king remained day and night with his
mind fixed on her, and entrusted the great burden of his kingdom
to his minister named Sumantra. And once on a time there came to
that king from Madhyadesa, [721] a fresh teacher of dancing, named
Labdhavara. The king, having seen his skill in music and dancing,
honoured him, and made him the instructor in dancing of the ladies
of the harem. He brought Anangaprabhá to such excellence in dancing,
that she was an object of admiration even to her rival wives. And from
associating with the professor of dancing, and from the delight she
took in his teaching, she fell in love with him. And the professor
of dancing, attracted by her youth and beauty, gradually learnt a
new strange [722] dance, thanks to the god of Love. And once she
approached the professor of dancing secretly in the dancing-hall,
and being desperately in love with him, said to him--"I shall not be
able to live for a moment without you, and the king Harivara, when he
hears of it, will not tolerate it, so come, let us depart elsewhere,
where the king will not find us out. You have wealth in the form of
gold, horses, and camels, given by the king, pleased with your dancing,
and I have ornaments. So let us quickly go and dwell where we shall be
secure." The professor of dancing was pleased with her proposal, and
consented to this. Then she put on the dress of a man, and went to the
house of the professor of dancing, accompanied by one female servant,
who was exceedingly devoted to her. Thence she started on horseback,
with that teacher of dancing, who placed his wealth on the back of a
camel. First she abandoned the splendour of the Vidyádharas, then of a
throne, and now she put herself under the shelter of a bard's fortune;
alas! fickle is the mind of women! And so Anangaprabhá went with the
teacher of dancing, and reached a distant city named Viyogapura. There
she dwelt in happiness with him, and the distinguished dancer thought
that by obtaining her his name of Labdhavara [723] had been justified.
And in the meanwhile king Harivara, finding out that his beloved
Anangaprabhá had gone somewhere or other, was ready to abandon the
body out of grief. Then the minister Sumantra said to the king to
comfort him, "Why do you appear as if you do not understand the
matter? Consider it yourself? How, my sovereign, could you expect
that a woman, who deserted a husband, that had by means of his sword
obtained the power of a Vidyádhara, and repaired to you as soon as
she saw you, would be faithful even to you? She has gone off with
something that she has managed to get, having no desire for anything
good, as one to whom a blade of grass is a sprout of jewels, falling in
love at sight with a blade of grass. Certainly the teacher of dancing
has gone off with her, for he is nowhere to be seen. And I hear that
they both were in the concert-hall in the morning. So tell me, king;
why are you so persistent about her, though you know all this? The
truth is, a fickle dame is like a sunset, momentarily aglow for every
one." When the minister said this to him, the king fell into a musing,
and thought--"Yes, that wise man has told me the truth. For a fickle
dame is like human life; connexion with her is unstable, she changes
every moment, and is terrible, bringing disgust at the end. The
wise man never falls into the power of deep rivers or of women,
both which drown him who falls into their power, while they exhibit
wanton sportfulness. Those men are truly masters of themselves,
who are free from excitement about pleasures, who are not puffed
up in prosperity, and who are unshrinking in dangers; such men have
conquered the world." After saying this, king Harivara abandoned his
grief by the advice of his minister, and remained satisfied with the
society of his own wives.
And after Anangaprabhá had dwelt some time with the teacher of dancing,
in the city named Viyogapura, he, as fate would have it, struck up an
acquaintance with a young gambler named Sudarsana; then the gambler,
before the eyes of Anangaprabhá, soon stripped the teacher of dancing
of all his wealth. Then Anangaprabhá deserted her husband, who was
stripped of all his fortune, as if in anger on that account, and threw
herself into the arms of Sudarsana. Then the teacher of dancing,
having lost his wife and his wealth, having no refuge, in disgust
with the world, matted his hair in a knot, and went to the banks of
the Ganges to practise mortification of the flesh. But Anangaprabhá,
who was ever taking new paramours, remained with that gambler. But
one night, her lord Sudarsana was robbed of all that he had by some
robbers, who entered his house in the darkness. Then Sudarsana, seeing
that Anangaprabhá was uncomfortable and unhappy on account of their
poverty, said to her: "Come and let us borrow something from a rich
friend of mine, named Hiranyagupta, a distinguished merchant." After
saying this, he, being deprived of his senses by destiny, went with